


Prothétique

by operahousehomicide



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, Erik is really into childish things like stuffed animals and candy, Erik's Birthday, Established Relationship, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Post canon, Redemption arc for Erik, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operahousehomicide/pseuds/operahousehomicide
Summary: In which Raoul de Chagny finds the progress of the medical fields of the world intriguing, and presents Erik with a gift.





	Prothétique

**Author's Note:**

> can i get a uhhhhhhhhhh happy poly destler/daae/de chagny family thx

The war in America had been reported to be some cruel, vile account of political insecurity plaguing the young nation. As it goes with all wars, the economic and socio-political climate transformed under the marching heels of its soldiers. When canonfire scarred a countryside, the spirit off the land changed.

Raoul had always considered himself to be very current in regards to his knowledge of the world and her progress. He was a man of society, after all, and his high standing came with responsibility. The viscount was very aware of the up and coming technologies of the world. As the century came into its closing age, and the American Civil War came to its gruesome end, medical sciences had advances themselves quite nicely, in Raoul’s very humble opinion.

Soldiers in the United States had been afflicted by all manners of horror during their times of service. They emerged from battle hideous and warped, both in their bodies and in their minds, and from this, rose scientific progress. One heard of these soldiers being repaired. The papers told of their bodies, torn from bullets and sabers, disguised under plaster. The American medical community advertised cosmetic change, comfort and utility. An inkling of an idea had taken root in the back of Raoul’s mind upon reading a dissertation regarding these achievements. As he considered it, his little idea grew to be a phenomenal sort of plan.

The viscount sent off a letter to a designer of one of these appliances. He offered a fairly high sum of money for the creation of one of these miraculous pieces of plaster. Communication began between them, and Raoul sent guestimations of measurements and a crude sketch. The design process was swift, and the production, smooth. The first mockup that came, neatly enswathed in parchment paper and contained in a parcel the size of a shoe box, brought tears to his eyes.

He critiqued that little piece of opportunity. Sending it back with its list of suggested change was one of the hardest things Raoul had ever done. He was anxious in the following weeks. Himself and Christine and Erik had never assigned the Phantom a specific birth date, but they generally celebrated in the autumn. The season fit Erik very well. As that time approached, Raoul’s communication with his designer became more frequent.

The final product landed in the viscount’s hands the eighth day of October. Raoul found his fingers trembling as he unwrapped the package, ribbon falling to the side. His fingers grazed the porcelain with careful, tender attitude. The application was everything he had dreamed for. The skin color was correct, as was the facial structure, the sweep of the nose, the broad forehead, the shape of allowance for the eye. The prosthetic, from a distance, would look very real indeed. Raoul, smiling broadly to himself, placed the appliance carefully back into its packaging, and tucked it away high on the top shelf of his wardrobe.

\--

The day the Daae-Destler-de Chagny household decided to hold a celebration for Erik’s birthday came a week or so later. They had been making preparations for the Hallow’s Eve ball at the Opera House when Christine’s lips formed an o around a sharp gasp as she recalled they had yet to host a birthday for the Phantom. Erik, shuffling his foot over the carpet in a little nervous habit, was indifferent to the time and date and activities. He wanted to stay in their Parisian apartment and perhaps have a bottle of wine. It was more than he had ever wished for when his two lovers readily agreed.

Life in the little apartment was bizarre, to say the least. Raoul’s fortune supplemented with Christine’s income was more than enough for them to live comfortably, Erik included. The Phantom’s rehabilitation, years later now as it was, generally had gone very smoothly. He was capable of enjoying himself in social situations, though he was still easily overwhelmed by too much interaction. He spoke amicably, reacted with less violent impulse, panicked on little occasion, and was the proper gentleman he had made himself to be as the Angel of Music. That is, when he wasn’t thieving away Raoul’s scarves to wear as comfort when the viscount had matters of estate to attend to, or leaving vaguely threatening notes about the kitchen when Christine had the last of the milk and didn’t send a maidservant to the market to fetch any more.

The seemingly last piece of the puzzle was the matter of Erik’s great dissatisfaction with his appearance. His face, though initially shocking, was not particularly ugly. The disfigurement called great attention to the other half of his face being very handsome. The Phantom was particular about his application of balms and creams, and was a little obsessed with keeping the fine half of his face well-cared for. Neither Christine nor Raoul had ever seen a blemish on his smooth skin.

Erik could tolerate going into public if he were permitted to wear bandages. It was less conspicuous than the mask, but the Phantom still found himself greatly discomforted without the covering. The only time he permitted his disfigurement be bare to the light of the sun was when he climbed to the roof of either their building or of the Opera. He had grown comfortable in being maskless in the solitude of their apartment, but still, Raoul and Christine wished for his company outside of their home more often.

They had thus far been to the market and to the de Chagny Estate and to carnivals and festivals and dinners and gardens and piano emporiums and candy stores and toy shops and clothing stores and other such places. Erik preferred to go out very early in the morning or late in the evening. It was easier for him to go out in public during the winter, where a scarf and a hat were not out of place. As much progress as he made, both of his lovers strived to assist.

Raoul showed Christine his quite brilliant little investment on the day of Erik’s impromptu birthday celebration. He explained quietly to her that the American soldiers who had been injured in the war had developed a market for craniofacial cosmetic prosthetics, and he had commissioned such an appliance for Erik. Christine thought the idea to be phenomenal. Neither of them knew how their dear Phantom would react, but it seemed to be a simple solution. No right gentleman or lady in public would despise a soldier with a prosthetic.

\--

They baked a cake together. Already a few glasses into the wine bottle, the three of them milled around the kitchen, giggling and teasing one another and very happily making a right mess. Raoul’s childhood consisted of him scampering under the feet of cooks and maidservants, and they had passed their knowledge of basic baking skills on to him. The viscount dictated the amount of eggs and flour to be added to the mixture, and instructed Erik to stir.

Shirts stained with chocolate and Erik’s black hair powdered with flour, the three of them frosted the cake with butter cream, placed one candle in it, and set it upon the dining table. Christine and Raoul sang to the Phantom, who, again, twisted his hands together and shyly averted his gaze, scuffing his feet in a little pattern upon the floorboards. He was rewarded a kiss on the cheek from the two of them, and when he blew out the candle, smiling nervously, they gathered him between them into a hug.

He nuzzled down into Christine’s hair, leaning into Raoul’s chest as the viscount snuck an arm around his waist. They stood entangled for a good moment, before Raoul broke the silence by inquiring as to what Erik’s wish was.

“His wish won’t come true if he tells you,” Christine interjected, disentangling herself in order to cut the cake into slices and serve it.

When they sat at the table with their cake and milk and wine and cheese, Erik curled his pinky around Raoul’s, eating one-handedly and smiling the whole while. The cake was rather mediocre, but having made it together, and having had one at all in the first place, Erik thought it to be the pinnacle of culinary skill.

“You must cook for us more often, Raoul.” He said thoughtfully, around a forkful of the cake, and Raoul laughed aloud, setting down his cup.

“And burn down the apartment? We only avoided that a moment ago because of Christine’s diligence.” Indeed, Christine had been the one to observe the appliance remained hot while the two boys were occupied with frosting each other’s noses and kissing against the counter.

The three of them bantered over the rest of the cake, Christine wiping the milk mustache off of Erik’s lip and commenting how he matched Raoul’s facial hair. This began a serious conversation about the tickling properties of the aforementioned hair, and Raoul was played being deeply offended when Erik voiced his complaints about it.

\--

When it came time to open gifts, Erik settled into his usual perch on the middle of their worn couch in the parlor, his fingers plucking threads absentmindedly from beneath his knees. He had such tics that his two lovers found endearing, and Christine captured one of his hands, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles as Raoul handed him the gift she’d gotten him.

The Phantom reclaimed his hand, gingerly breaking the seal of the envelope he’d been handed. The contents of the envelope was a brochure to a new exhibit at the zoo that opened in the spring months, depicting a very handsome little monkey. Christine explained they could go to see the animals again, much to the Phantom’s delight. He found much enjoyment in childhood pleasures. Along with the brochure, came a little plush monkey, a child’s plaything. Erik clutched the fellow, twisting the ribbon round its neck about his fingers and smiling that little pleased smile that the two of them knew so well. It would soon join the small shelf of things he had collected, much similar to a magpie.

The shelf included his music box, his masks, shiny bits and bobs, particularly nice broches, stuffed creatures, figurines, books, and other whatnots. The monkey would settle amongst his treasures quite nicely. The thought warmed Christine.

Next came a palmful of candy. Though they had purchased for him a whole tin of sweets, they knew if they were to afford Erik access to it, all would be devoured immediately. They had long learned to ration his chocolates and other sugary delights. Candy and sweet things had not been prevalent in Erik’s childhood, and neither had stuffed creatures or toys and knickknacks. His current interest in such things, the two of them found to be charming.

As Erik nibbled away at his chocolates, smoothing the wrapper carefully out and folding it into a tiny square, Raoul fetched the parcel containing the prosthetic. He had to admit, he was growing nervous at the possibility of Erik’s displeasure. The Phantom’s disfigurement was still a very sensitive topic, and the viscount hoped not to stir any sort of resentment in his dear Opera Ghost.

Raoul passed the box to Erik, taking his seat at his side. The Phantom sat between the two of them, and Christine reached across Erik’s lap to take Raoul’s hand in hers. She afforded him a little reassuring squeeze. No matter Erik’s reaction, she was certain he would understand Raoul’s intentions were pure.

The viscount watched Erik’s face intently as the ribbons slipped away, discarded to the floor, and the Phantom’s lovely pianist fingers removed layers of parchment paper. He folded them carefully, always certain such things could be used at a later date. Christine rolled her eyes at his antics. Raoul inhaled slowly through his mouth. Erik lifted the lid of the box, then, lifted away a final sheet of tissue to reveal the prosthetic. 

The room suddenly felt very still. A hush fell upon the three of them, as the Phantom sat, stiff and squared in the shoulders, hands hovering where they settled above the appliance.

Raoul bit his lip. Christine squeezed his hand.

The moment dragged on, pregnant, for another long second, but then, to the great relief of the viscount and actress, Erik’s hands came to rest gingerly upon the face of the prosthetic. His fingers mapped out the fine curves and angles of the piece before very cautiously lifting it. He turned it over, still completely and very eerily silent. It always took them by surprise how capable of being entirely still and quiet he was.

The Phantom turned the prosthetic over again, inspecting it from all angles and becoming more certain of its structural integrity. He did not seem angry, at the very least. Two years ago, had it upset him, as it very well might have had, the Phantom would have flung the thing to the floor and stormed from the room to have a tantrum for the next several days. He had been apt to lock himself away in his room and not emerge for hours and hours at a time, nor eat, nor bathe. It had been many months since he had last reacted so badly.

Erik raised the mask a little, bringing it close to his face and hunching over it. Raoul took a low breath, to speak.

“With the war, I thought you may benefit from a cosmetic appliance. It would make going out into public easier. People won’t think down upon a soldier, though we know you are not.” The viscount kept his voice steady and soothing, his eyes upon Erik’s face.

The Phantom turned to meet his gaze, lips slightly parted, eyes misting. Raoul softened at the sight, reaching to cup his jaw. The viscount grazed his thumb over the very lip of Erik’s warped skin, gentle and familiar upon the sensitive flesh. Erik’s eyes fell lidded as Christine wound her arms around his waist, leaning up to press a kiss at the base of his shoulder, just above his shirt collar.

When the tallest of the three of them managed to collect himself enough to pull away, he carefully stood, taking the appliance with him into the washroom. He faced the mirror, slipping it on in a practiced movement. The prosthetic fell aligned to his face much similar to the way his white mask had, and the sensation automatically comforted Erik. He shifted it just slightly, then let his hands drop to inspect himself in the mirror.

Up close, it was painfully obvious he wore a prosthetic. It did not extend beyond his jaw, the cover the disfigurement as it further travelled down his body, but it did raise to his hairline, keeping the tarnished skin hidden very well. Erik took a step back from the mirror, than another. From further away, the prosthetic made it appear as though he had a line running down across his face, but that was it. From afar, he would look like any other man.

The Phantom swallowed tightly, entirely emotional at the sight, and stepped from the washroom and back into the parlor. Raoul had stood, anxiously ringing his hands together, but he smiled comfortingly as Erik entered the room. Christine’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes widening. They both beamed at him.

“How handsome,” Christine murmured, as she rose and approached their Opera Ghost.

Erik bowed his head into her hand, relaxing entirely as she swept her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. Raoul drew Erik into a soft little kiss, lips grazing the side of the prosthetic much similar to how they had his mask for the so many months Erik had refused to remove it.

The Phantom settled into their embrace, eyes drifting closed. He found himself very pleased with the gift, and accordingly, murmured a thank you. He felt Raoul’s smile on his neck, and as he wound his arms around the two of them, Erik realized he was very happy. When he removed the prosthetic later that evening, settling into its velvet and tissue paper nest, then closed the lid upon it, Raoul was there to gather him into his arms and press kisses across his marred face.

The purchase of the appliance would make it easier for Erik to find himself at the sides of his lovers in public. Raoul had not bought it to hide Erik’s disfigurement out of hate, but out of love, out of desire to make the Phantom comfortable, to have him by their sides. Comfortably full of wine and cake and love for his two favorite people, with his stuffed monkey in his arms, Erik went to sleep between the two of them, and dreamt of their trip to the zoo, his face bare to the world, his hands held by both Christine and Raoul, and he was happy.

 

 


End file.
